


Dress You Up

by autumnstwilight (sewohayami)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Clothing Kink, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Role Reversal, Slight Authority Kink, sexual tension that is not resolved but will be shortly, wearing your boyfriend's clothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewohayami/pseuds/autumnstwilight
Summary: Noctis decides to find out how Ignis looks in royal black and gold.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 10
Kudos: 101
Collections: The Ignoct Indoor Gift Exchange





	Dress You Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whythekwehnot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whythekwehnot/gifts).



> A pinch hit for the Ignoct Indoor Gift Exchange, in response to a request for fluff with Ignis getting spoiled and/or role reversal. I hope this hits the mark!

The old clasp fastens in a strange way, but after some fumbling, Noctis manages to get it closed. When he lets go of it, the weight of the medallions pulls the chains into place, and he smooths his hands down over Ignis’s shoulders, twice to make sure the cape lies flat, and then once more just to touch him. His fingers comb through the hair at Ignis’s nape, gently extracting the strands trapped under his collar. Hands clapped on his shoulders again, he turns Ignis toward the mirror.

“Yeah, looks good on you,” he says with a grin, leaning onto Ignis’s back and looking over his shoulder at their reflection. Ignis makes a soft  _ tsk _ sound, demurring, but reaches up to adjust the collar, and the chain and brooch securing it, then straightens his shoulders and broadens his chest. It’s really just  _ unfair _ how regal that makes him look, and Noctis is sure he’ll get around to being irritated as soon as he’s done ogling. As he watches, Ignis’s fingers move to twist at his cufflinks and his downcast gaze shows off the fan of his eyelashes. He seems quite taken with those— Ravatogh fire opals that spark orange and green when he turns them, winged in gold— Noctis decides then and there to insist Ignis keep them.

In the meantime, he turns back to the heavy wooden chest and the floor strewn with clothing. Not all of Noctis’s things were a fit for his significantly taller advisor, and so they’d dug deep into the collection. The black silk shirt he’d buttoned over Ignis’s chest might have belonged to his grandfather, but Ignis wears the vintage cut like it was tailor-made for him. Lying to one side are a pair of Arba kidskin gloves, also black. He taps at the inside of Ignis’s wrist, prompting him to offer his hands, and smooths the gloves down, one at a time, over his fingers and palms. For a moment, he leaves their hands entwined, giving a squeeze before letting go.

The last thing he retrieves is the horned crown, and he hears Ignis’s breath catch when he sees it.

“Noct, I couldn’t possibly…” he starts, before Noctis shushes him.

“I wanna see it,” he says, quietly, but insistently. Ignis blinks down at him for a moment, then a smile curves at the edge of his lips, and he dips his head. It’s enough for Noctis to reach up and hook the base of the crown over his ear, though adjusting it to sit correctly on someone else proves to be tricky. It’s Ignis who finally twists it into place, tugging his hair out from underneath and arranging it to conceal the lower portion.

“Man, I forgot how much of a pain all this stuff was. How did you ever manage to get me dressed?”

Ignis inhales sharply through his nose, in a way Noctis pins as  _ amusement. _

“Indeed. And might I add,  _ you _ have the benefit of a far less squirmy subject.”

He turns back to the mirror then, and appears to be taking in the sight of the crown over his ear. His hands begin to rise from his sides again, and then stop, with a purposeful curl of his fingers. There’s something in his expression, not quite bashful, but hesitant. Self-conscious, perhaps.

“Huh,” is all Noctis responds at first, leaning in to brush a strand of hair back behind Ignis’s ear, another excuse to touch. Then he forgoes the excuses entirely, running fingers through his hair, around to the back, and tracing light circles on his scalp. Ignis leans into the touch like it’s magnetic and he can’t help it, a few more circles and his eyes flutter closed. 

“But  _ you _ like this kind of thing.” Noctis closes his fingers together, gently tugging the hair at the root.

“It does have its merits,” Ignis murmurs after a distracted pause, eyes opening just far enough to show a sliver of green. He even shivers in response to the pressure when Noctis runs his fingers along the ridges of the crown and along the twisting curves, feeling the texture of the cool metal. Back when Noctis was the one being dressed, he’d been told to resist fidgeting, as the oils in his fingerprints could tarnish the silver, but as he lets the point dig into the pad of his thumb, he thinks, why shouldn’t he touch the things that have always been his?

Speaking of.

He closes in, chest to chest. His fingers reach around the back of Ignis’s neck, slipping under his mantle and shirt collar until he finds the tiny clasp of the silver necklace there.

Ignis coughs out what sounds like a nervous laugh.

“I’m going to feel rather naked without that, you know.” He leans forward slightly, ducking his head into Noctis’s shoulder. The clasp comes undone.

The skull-shaped pendant is still warm from his body heat when Noctis fastens it around his own neck, and the look in Ignis’s eyes, along with the slight parting of his lips, tells him he made the right decision. He takes a step back, and flashes a cheeky grin before bowing in earnest, hand over his heart.

Ignis looks down at him thoughtfully, a little haughty, a little regal, and reaches for the pendant slipping forward over Noctis’s collar, turning it between his gloved thumb and forefinger.

“Tell the staff to vacate the Southwest Tower for the evening,” he says eventually. Noctis knows he means the rooftop garden they once favored for stargazing, and the suite below it, which is still designated for a prince who hasn’t slept there in years. There’s something odd in Ignis’s voice, and it takes him a moment to recognize it— not the friendly instruction of the tone he uses to speak to Noctis, but how he sounds when he’s giving an order with full authority. Calm, efficient, and inviting absolutely no argument. Noctis can’t help but smile, even as he keeps his head bowed.

“As you wish.”


End file.
